


Like You Belong Here

by Timeskipped



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Act 8 Spoilers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, this is cheesy wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeskipped/pseuds/Timeskipped
Summary: Itaru, princes, and gacha pulls.Itaru gets Citron to pull for him in a gacha, and falls in love.
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Citron
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	Like You Belong Here

**Author's Note:**

> I'm looking at this and going ??? how did this get so long??? Anyways, enjoy!

At first, it’s a whim. Citron’s around to play a game in Itaru’s room, and the event banner on the newest gacha game he got just started, so it’s easy enough to ask, simply, “Will you do a gacha pull for me?”

Citron smiles, leaning over and pressing up against Itaru’s side. It’s dark, making Citron glow in the bright light from the computer screen and Itaru’s phone alike, and, god, Itaru should probably turn on the lights. His eyesight is already ruined enough as it is, but Citron probably doesn’t want the same to happen to him.

“Of course!” Citron grins, pressing the button when Itaru angles his screen towards him.

Itaru nearly shivers with excitement as he takes it back, watching the loading, the sparkling, all ten figures from the pull lining up. “SSR, SSR, SSR,” he mutters under his breath, not caring that Citron can probably hear him loud and clear.

The first comes. A rare card, one he hasn’t gotten yet. Nice, but not what he wanted. What he wants is the event card, an SSR of the character (he’s a prince who puts on a persona to seem cool and relaxed, but is anything but; Itaru quickly chose him as one of his favorites) holding a rose.

The next card comes, then the next. No event card, no event card. And for the guaranteed SR+, Itaru taps forward with anticipation…

The rose for the event card blooms into view, and Itaru pumps his fist. “Yes! _Yes!_ SSR achieved!” He grins at Citron, who does the same back. Itaru laughs. “You’re surprisingly lucky on this pull,” he tells him, fully turning to him.

And then he freezes.

He’s close to Citron, and Citron’s smile is softer than it normally is. Or maybe that’s Itaru’s imagination, or the influence of how Citron’s arm touches Itaru’s back as he leans closer.

“I was!” Citron grins, eyes dropping to the screen as Itaru’s heart beats a little too hard. “Who is this? Oh, oh, a prince! How fitting for you!”

“What?” Itaru feels dazed. “What do you mean, fitting?” If anything, it’s fitting for Citron to have pulled the card for him, even though he’s one of _three_ different prince characters in the game. The only reason it’s fitting for Itaru is because Itaru is similar to the prince, but Citron doesn’t know that, and besides… Citron is _actually_ a prince. Itaru is not.

Citron shakes his head. “Izumi called you princely before!”

Oh, so it was Izumi. Itaru laughs through his disappointment. This isn’t a mobile game where the Itaru can romance a real prince, even if one _is_ in his room. Speaking of, he gestures around said room, at all the trash and clothes scattered everywhere. “Have you seen me? Has _she_ seen me, if she’s saying that? Come on, Citron, you should know better.”

Citron props his head on his hand, tilting it in such a way so that shadows fall gently on his face. Citron could be an SSR all by himself. “Don’t sell yourself court. Princes just have to seem perfect in public.”

“Sell myself short, you mean?” And just like that, Itaru’s laughing in the relaxed, easy way he does with Citron. He meets Citron’s blue eyes with a smile as his neglected phone turns off. He looks down. “Okay, I’m gonna level up these new cards real quick, then we can turn on the lights to save your eyes, and get back to two player mode.”

“Of course!” Citron moves away from him, and Itaru finds himself desperately missing the contact.

* * *

The card that Citron pulled has become Itaru’s best card, and he knows exactly how this happened. It’s because he has a hopelessly dumb crush on him, and hey, what better way to pity himself than to fully level and constantly use the card his crush pulled for him.

“I didn’t know romance games were on your radar, Chigasaki.” Chikage smiles when Itaru whips his head over to him. He’s standing a ways away from Itaru, but close enough to peer over Itaru’s shoulder to see his phone with the way it’s tilted. The game’s cards are only subtly romantic, since the game likes to tease the romance aspect, and it makes Itaru smirk knowing that even Chikage, of all people, could tell.

“I play all kinds of games,” Itaru waves him off, tapping quickly to close the card image. “I’d recommend you the greatest dating sims and otome games I know if you wanted, but I doubt you’d care.”

“True. What I actually came here to tell you is that Izumi’s curry is ready.”

“Ah, so senpai was sent as an errand boy by Izumi,” Itaru smiles, rolling off of his sofa and following Chikage through the door. He can’t quite keep his fake cheer about curry on for too long, though, so he eventually sighs. “What kind of curry is it this time?”

And Chikage launches into a spiel about curry. The curry lovers club never stops, Itaru supposes, though Chikage is at least less rampant with his love for it than Izumi. She’s the type to eat curry morning to night for weeks and then pass out from nutritional deficiency—or at least Itaru assumes from how she speaks of it—but Chikage at least has the sense to put his spices on _something_ else before it comes to that.

“Yeah, I didn’t get most of that,” Itaru says, when Chikage finishes. “But whatever. What matters is that you’re going to be trying out some of the spices Citron had shipped over, right? He told me he gave them to you the other day.”

“Of course,” Chikage says, as they enter the kitchen.

Izumi has, thankfully, not dumped an entire jar of spices into the curry like Chikage might’ve, which means that when Itaru is finished and brings his dish back to where she’s staying, putting the curry away, he’s not desperately reaching for more water.

“Hey,” he greets her casually, realizing quickly that the two of them are alone. Omi’s not here tonight, so he’s not around to help out. “Everyone else is letting you deal with this curry alone, huh?”

Izumi huffs with playful indignation, “They told me to not pack the high schoolers lunches with leftovers. We have so much, though!”

“That’s ‘cause you made too much again,” Itaru says, and he thinks if he were a character in an otome game he’d have a sweat drop appear over his head. Man, an otome game with Izumi as the protagonist would surely be pretty curry-centric; Itaru would prefer it if that wasn’t reality, thanks.

If this was an otome game, Itaru would prefer Citron as his love interest, anyway—oh, right. He has something to ask Izumi about Citron.

Itaru sighs, turning off the water right as Izumi shuts the fridge. “Izumi, you told Citron that I was princely, didn’t you? He mentioned it the other day, and I’m not quite sure what kind of thoughts were going through your head, but I’d like to ask—have you _seen_ me?”

Izumi gets a weird expression on her face, leaning over the counter on her elbows. “I was more talking about how you present yourself, really. Did Citron say why I told him that?” She’s smiling as if she has some secret that Citron told her, and Itaru is _not_ having that.

“No, why?” he squints suspiciously.

Izumi muffles a laugh with her hand. “Oh, it’s probably not important. We were talking about practice, and you came up. You’re princely because you try, and Citron said he liked that about you. I mean, I can’t speak for him, so maybe you should ask him yourself?” She’s still smiling.

Itaru can feel himself melting. In his head, his brain is basically keyboard smashing. He’s princely because he _tries?_ Citron _likes that about him?_

“Yeah, I’m not asking him,” Itaru replies cooly, turning away.

“Huh? Why not?” Izumi blinks at him when he turns back to her. “Again, he really likes you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you asking about why he in particular thinks you seem like a prince. Or, you could ask Muku? I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you something about that.”

Itaru shakes his head. “No, I just think that it’s weird that he phrased it as if _you’re_ the only one who thought of me like that.” Itaru’s a little offended that Izumi thinks he should talk to Muku. Not that Itaru dislikes Muku, obviously not, he just doesn’t want to sit through Muku’s rose-colored view of Itaru’s work persona.

Izumi sighs. “Sorry… Honestly, he also said that you’re a bit princely when you’re gaming,” Itaru’s head snaps to stare at her. “Not that I understand it, no offence.” She laughs softly.

“None taken,” Itaru says, smiling and trying to calm his racing heart. _What the fuck._

“I think he just admires you,” Izumi says, sighing. She’s smiling though, and it makes Itaru remember that she’s always paying attention to them all and taking care of them. “And… I think he sees you as more than just a persona.”

Itaru sucks in a breath. “Got it,” he says, “thanks for telling me. Really.” He waves her goodbye, returning to his room and booting up an old game of his that’s mostly mindless.

To repeat his earlier thoughts: _What the fuck._ Why does Citron admire Itaru, when Itaru has done nothing admirable? Obviously Citron thinking Itaru is like a prince feels different than any other member of Mankai’s thoughts about him might, because Itaru is hopelessly, utterly falling for Citron, and it’s just not _fair._

Itaru can’t even figure out what Citron might feel for him, if him thinking he’s princely even with his hair clipped back and desperately spending all his money on SSRs means anything than, _oh, he’s a cool gamer._ That is, if he’s even cool at all, other than his work persona.

Itaru puts his face in his hands. His speakers blare a YOU DIED message, and Itaru decides to stop thinking about this. He’ll just take it to the grave.

* * *

“How gap moe!” Citron comments, when Itaru tells him about the prince in the mobage whose real personality and presentation don’t match. Citron’s smiling a crooked smile, knees pulled up onto Itaru’s couch.

“Somehow I’m not surprised that you know that phrase,” Itaru says, turning his phone back around. He scrolls through his card list looking for another good card of one of the characters. Or maybe he should go to the CG gallery? But he doesn’t want to carelessly spoil Citron on the story’s details. If he wants to do this, he should tread carefully.

“I’m always earning something now!” Citron says, without pause.

“Learning something new, right? I _am_ surprised you know gap moe but not that...” Itaru presses the story CG where the protagonist is holding hands with the second prince. Vaguely romantic, sure, but it’s not like it’s spoiling anything. Nice.

He tells Citron about the characters with a smile, getting lost in the game mechanics. It’s not his favorite genre, especially for a mobile game, and he tends to prefer more action-oriented or rhythm games, but things like this are still games, after all.

He tells Citron about how there are various princes, and then, looking up at Citron, he says on impulse, “You’re like this one, I think,” pointing at a prince who is portrayed as charming via his good humor and bright smile. Itaru thinks, briefly, that Citron is better than that character could ever be, a real person who happens to be in Itaru’s room, warm and bright and _good._

A prince who chose to stay with them. With Itaru. His eyes drift upwards, to the way Itaru’s phone light falls on Citron’s face, and the way his smile curves, and he thinks, _wow, I really want to kiss him._

Citron presses closer, and Itaru’s breath hitches.

“We’re pretty similar, huh?” Citron’s eyes shine lightly. “We’re both princes. That’s why you compared us, yes?”

“Yeah.” Itaru swallows, trying to regain his composure. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed, an emotion he tends to push down around Spring Troupe. It still crops up occasionally, though, and here it is now, pushing at his throat. “I mean, it’s more like I think you’re both funny, but sure, princes are princes. Listen, Citron, if you want to play the game, all you need to do is download it. That way you can learn about all the princes on your own.”

Citron sighs. “I could,” he says, like he’s a bit disappointed. Itaru’s eyes flicker over his face, searching for where that sadness comes from, but, predictably, finds no answers. “But I want to hear from you.”

There’s a sweetness there that Itaru hadn’t expected. He swallows again. Blinking, he tries to wash away the feeling that he doesn’t deserve this.

Itaru’s lips quirk upwards, thinking about what Izumi said to him earlier. “If you want similarities, I am pretty princely, right? But just like you, I mess it up when I open my mouth. You and me, we’re both pretty bad at this whole thing.”

Citron laughs, and it’s stupidly easy to relax. He lets go of his embarrassment.

One of these days, he’s going to stop feeling that talking so much about these games, whatever games they are, is the wrong thing to do. Citron wouldn’t ever dislike this part of him, he reminds himself, and soaks up Citron’s laughter for the brief moment it hangs in the air.

The truth is that Itaru can’t imagine anything better than that.

“But that’s okay,” Itaru continues, keeping his voice soft. “Even if you’re bad at being princely—in Japanese, at least, I bet you’re super smooth in Zahran—you don’t have to be. You don’t have to be anything.” His face is still close to Citron’s, and when Citron breathes out Itaru feels it on his nose.

“Then I choose to be a gamer with you!” Citron laughs, and it’s like the sun has invaded Itaru’s room. “Thank you for thinking I’d be smooth, but not really.”

Itaru scoffs. Maybe it’s just his desperately crushing mind, but Citron is always smooth. He can only imagine the added stats Citron must have for people who know him as a prince first and a genuinely hilarious man second. Rich and attractive? Check. Actively cares about the things people (read: Itaru) say? Double check. Itaru was a goner from the start.

“I think you can charm everyone if you try,” Itaru says lightly, trying to convey his honesty. “I’ve heard you speak Zahran, and it sounds different, in a good way. Of course, the way you speak Japanese is also good.”

Citron’s eyes widen. “Oooh,” he exclaims. “Affection meter up!”

“Nice,” Itaru grins, and hopes futilely that it’s real. “How long until I get on your route?” It’s only half a joke, and only half flirting. They’ve done this before. Still, to make sure it’s not too much, Itaru leans back, away from him.

“How about if you bleat me a meal?” Citron also moves away, leaning his head on his palm and tilting it so that he’s looking up at Itaru. “We can get sushi!”

“Treat you to a meal,” Itaru corrects offhandedly, and half-hopes this is a sign of feelings being returned. Then again… Itaru is who he is, and Citron, as previously stated, is so much better than Itaru. Only unlockable at a higher level. He clears his head of those thoughts, thinks about an actual response, and then cringes. “Sorry, but that’s out of budget right now.”

“Nooo,” Citron fakes crying, and Itaru laughs.

“Next time,” he promises, and his heart softens at the thought. Even if he’s being used as a human ATM by a literal prince, he thinks he wants to be used to this.

Later, in the dark of his room, when his PC’s been turned off and he’s accepted the early morning coming in fewer hours than is healthy, Itaru stares at the ceiling. _But I want to hear from you,_ Citron had said. He wanted to hear about the game from Itaru. He wanted Itaru to ramble about the characters, to be his nerdy self. Citron… wants that. Itaru can feel his face growing warm in the darkness.

And he’d started talking about how he was also princely, like the characters. How utterly embarrassing. He resists the urge to groan as he turns over.

* * *

“You kept this?” Citron’s voice is quiet.

“Hm?” Itaru looks over to see Citron holding a photo, and he cranes his neck to look at which one it is—ah. It’s the one of the two of them, when they went to Masumi’s sports festival with the rest of Spring Troupe. They’d gotten in on special permission, even though only parents and guardians were supposed to go. “Yeah. We’re the parents of Spring Troupe, after all. Can’t go slacking on that job.”

“Yes! We’ll take care of our children together!” Citron’s eyes are shining.

“Though Masumi’s about to graduate high school,” Itaru’s lips quirk upwards. “I guess we’ll be alone at home, our children all going off into the world… This is so sad, can we get an F in the chat?”

Citron nods quickly. “I am currently paying my respects to our happy family.”

Itaru smiles, pressing the start mission button for his mobage and setting it on auto. “Well, at least we know that we’re not actually going down that route. This troupe is staying together, at least for now. I think if we weren’t, we’d just be instantly getting a bad end. Right?”

Citron puts down the photo, and Itaru watches from the corner of his eye as he moves to sit beside him. Citron bumps his shoulder with Itaru’s. “Yeah.”

Itaru notices how quiet Citron is, and feels his heart twist.

“Are you afraid of leaving again?” Itaru says, tentatively. A bubble of nervousness bursts within him. “You know, if you have to leave again, it won’t be the end of the world,” Itaru turns his body towards Citron, letting his phone fall onto his lap. “You’re important to us, but we can still see each other even if things—I mean,” Itaru stumbles over his words, trying to find a way to tell Citron how important he is to him without telling him that he needs him there, that he wants to be friends forever, or maybe more, but the words aren’t coming out right.

Citron is a person he can be honest with, and he doesn’t want to ruin anything. Not their easy relationship, not the way he feels light and happy whenever Citron indulges him in talking about games, not the jokes about being parents to Spring Troupe.

“Itaru,” Citron says, and it stops Itaru in his tracks. “I’m happy to be here. I’m not leaving you again, because this is my home now. My Japanese family.” Citron’s hand finds its way into Itaru’s hair, and Itaru lets him, even though it feels so painfully intimate.

Itaru’s heart clenches. They’re so close. Citron tilts Itaru’s head a little closer, smiling a little wider. Citron’s eyes wander around Itaru’s face before coming back to meet his gaze head on.

Citron continues, holding Itaru’s head with one hand, “There’s no bad ends if I have you.”

Itaru feels himself relax despite himself. Citron is meeting him halfway, using his own cheesy gamer language, and that means so much, even if Itaru isn’t used to this.

It mixes with the bittersweet feeling filling his chest. If he were to word it, it would be something like, _are you telling the truth?_ but also like _thank you._ Itaru can feel, in the moment of silence, an endless well of appreciation for Citron’s honesty. For everything he is saying now, and everything he still has to talk to Itaru about, in the future, when he feels okay to do so.

Even if those things aren’t being voiced now, Itaru can be sure that Citron thinks of them as home. That, at least, is true.

“Glad to hear,” Itaru lets his head drop gently onto Citron’s shoulder. His phone makes a noise to indicate that the mission needs him, and he keeps his cheek squished against Citron as he picks it back up from his lap and plays with one hand. Citron continues to card his hand through his hair, and Itaru’s heart feels warm.

_Home._

* * *

Itaru holds his phone upwards above his head. “I need this card!” he says to no one in particular, though various people are also around the common room.

“Which card?” Banri asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “Sakuya’s not in the dorms right now, so maybe you should wait.” He and Taichi are both doing something with Yuki, and they leave Yuki to come to Itaru’s side and peer down at his phone. Yuki sighs as they do.

“Oh, it’s that game,” Taichi says. “I’m not playing that one.” He seems disappointed, and if Itaru was part of the camp to constantly compare Taichi to a dog, he’d say his ears were drooping. Actually, he _can_ kind of see it, like one of those animated dogs from that one game he plays. “I was thinking it was the new event for something else,” Taichi frowns.

“Dude, what?” Banri nudges Taichi. “There’re no events starting in any games you’re playing, unless you downloaded something new without me.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” Itaru interrupts the two kids, “I’ll probably ask Citron to pull for me.”

Banri’s eyebrows shoot up. “Citron? Really?”

Yeah, Itaru should’ve thought through saying that, but, whatever. He can spin this in a way outside of his feelings. It’s all good, except Banri can be scarily perceptive when he’s not caught up in his own head, and Taichi has a laser-focus on romance when he senses that it might be near. Also, Yuki is within hearing range, and Itaru can just imagine the snarky comments from him.

“He pulled SSRs for me a few times,” Itaru explains calmly. “And he’s home right now, so I can get it right now, as opposed to waiting until the event is already a couple hours in.”

Banri looks sceptical. “Are you sure his luck will hold out? You’ve had most people pull for you, and we all disappoint you eventually. I thought you vowed to never trust anyone but Sakuya.”

“Yeah!” Taichi says, leaning further over the couch and pouting. “Sakkun has such good luck…! I bet if he tried, he could do even more than gacha pulls with it! I wish I was like that!” He lets out a heavy sigh.

“The gacha just can’t detect any greed from him,” Itaru says.

“Maybe you should have less greed, then,” Yuki says, and when Itaru leans back to look at him with raised eyebrows, Yuki just rolls his eyes. “What, it’s true.”

“Says the middle schooler who fights with Sakyo for more fabric. I bet he’d tell _you_ to have less greed, you know,” Itaru replies, then second guesses himself. “Not that I want you to stop fighting, of course. The costumes you make are amazing.”

Yuki scoffs, resting his elbows on the table. “Obviously.”

Taichi perks up, twisting his body to look at Yuki, who just looks back with a smug grin. “You and Sakyo had another fight for the next costumes recently, didn’t you?” Taichi asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Are you gonna make Tenma carry all your stuff again?” Banri asks, leaving Itaru’s side completely. It almost feels like a betrayal. “He’s gonna complain. A lot. To me.”

“Like I care,” Yuki retorts.

_Dumb kids,_ Itaru thinks.

Well, they’re thoroughly distracted from Itaru’s gacha needs, and without figuring out that Itaru is going to ask Citron for _feelings_ reasons. He’ll count this as a win; Itaru is in the lead with one point, Banri and co. losing with zero. Will he get an achievement if he goes undetected for long enough? Well, that’s an achievement worth getting for a completionist like Itaru—and totally not because he’s afraid of telling Citron about his crush.

He gets up from the couch, stretching and rolling his shoulders. He pockets his phone. “I’m gonna go see if Citron’s in his room,” Itaru tells the others.

“Good luck,” Banri throws him a cocky grin, ”I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Yeah, whatever. Itaru waves nonchalantly as he leaves.

Citron’s door stands like a dungeon, and even though the metaphor isn’t even close to being real, he entertains himself in the moment before Citron opens it by imagining that the gacha is the boss, and this is a dungeon Itaru has to go through to get a special party member—the door swings open, and Itaru’s train of thought is rudely cut off.

“Itaru?”

Citron’s face lights up instantly. Itaru smiles. “You know that gacha game I told you about? With the princes? A new event is starting, and I need someone to pull for me. You up for that?”

“Yes!” Citron’s eyes soften. “I have something to tell you, actually! Come in, come in!” He opens the door wider, and Itaru steps inside his and Sakuya’s room. A sense of peace overcomes Itaru, like every time he comes to see Citron.

“What is it?” Itaru sits down on a pillow next to the low table in the center of the room, and Citron sits across from him. Itaru can see Citron shining as he grins.

“I’ve decided to download your prince game!” Citron’s face is close as he leans across the table, and Itaru backs up before he goes cross-eyed trying to make eye contact with Citron.

“You will?”

“Yes!” Citron grins beautifully, waving his phone around. The store page is already up. “I’ll even reroll for a good character you like! Please give me your friend code, Itaru!”

“I’m warning you,” Itaru smirks, “if you get a card I tried to whale for but didn’t get, I’m cutting off our friendship forever. No friend code for you, and no coming into my room, either.”

Citron gasps dramatically. “No, no! Itaru, you can’t do that!” He stares at his phone with a pout, looking about ready to cry if he ends up getting one of the aforementioned cards. “How will I know which cards will break our friendship?”

Itaru laughs.

“You better hope the gacha gods are on your side then. Or,” he pulls up his own phone with a smirk, “you can do a gacha roll for me.” He lifts his arm to press the back of his free hand to his bare forehead.

Citron’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “Hmm… But what if I get a bad roll… It seems that Itaru’s precious friendship is further away than I thought…!”

Itaru’s heart jumps at Citron calling his friendship precious, and his hand jumps with it, away from his face and falling softly against the table. He can feel his eyebrow twitch, because he had _not_ meant to act surprised, but he keeps smiling. “If you get the SSR I want, I’ll do whatever you want,” Itaru says. He taps on the banner’s card image. “This one.”

“Whatever I want?” Citron asks, eyes widening.

Itaru grins. “Within reason. It’s a small chance, but it’s worth it, isn’t it? And if you get no SSRs, then maybe I can ask you to do whatever I want…?” What Itaru wants, of course, is for Citron to pay for more gacha rolls. It would save his wallet so much.

Obviously, he wouldn’t ask for anything weird. They’re both _responsible adults,_ despite the immature way they can act, and the worst Itaru can expect Citron to ask for is to do a Manzai competition with him. Or… something. If he asks for him to pay for something too big he can always argue that it’s unreasonable to pay that much.

He slides his phone towards Citron, watching as Citron’s eyebrows pull together and his lips purse. He looks silly, but there’s something charming about it.

When Citron’s finger hits the button, Itaru finds himself watching Citron’s expressions instead of the screen. They change slowly; first it’s concentration, soft and serious, something that Itaru doesn’t get to see often on him.

It shifts, the frown becoming more pronounced as Itaru’s phone doesn’t let out any sounds indicating an SSR. Then, the sound rings out, and Itaru drags his eyes away from Citron’s suddenly smiling face to look at what he pulled—

Not the card he wanted, but the screen still reads out _NEW._ New SSR, nice.

He glances up to see Citron looking at him with a soft smile. When their eyes meet, Itaru keeps his gaze steady. “It’s a tie so far,” he comments.

Citron nods. “It’s a standoff! Who will come out on top?!”

“Probably neither of us. You wasted all your luck on getting that SSR, so the other probably won’t come home. How dare you, Citron. How dare you.”

“Please forgive me, Itaru!” Citron clasps his hands in front of him.

Reaching forward to tap again on his phone, Itaru stays silent and watches another card pull up. It’s a R card, of course. But it’s the prince character that reminds Itaru of Citron, and that makes him smile, even as Citron goes back to tapping, revealing no more SSRs. All that’s left are dupe SRs, but… it’s not a bad pull.

“Well, that was fun,” Itaru says, leaning back on his hands. Mentally, he kisses the gacha funds he has saved up goodbye. F2P players are all well and good, but Itaru still wants that card. But, that kind of stuff can always be handled at a later date.

Citron smiles. “So, am I going to be cut off when I roll a card you whaled for? Even if you won’t do what I want, I want your friendship!”

“It’s under consideration,” Itaru smirks. “You’ll have to wait until business hours are open.” He laughs when Citron pouts, covering his mouth with his hand. There’s a disgustingly sappy feeling building up inside of him, but he doesn’t mind it. “Do you want to reroll now? I’ll help you.”

Citron shakes his head. “No, we should go to the lounge.”

“Oh, sure.” Itaru pushes himself closer to the table to grab his phone again. He can do some grinding after helping Citron. Actually, considering, it’s kind of weird that Citron wants to go to a different room. It’s not like Sakuya’s going to barge in on them—it’s not even like there’s anything to barge into in the first place.

Itaru squashes down the part of himself that _wants_ there to be something. That’s not something he really wants to confront, honestly.

He silently reminds himself that dating takes up so much time that he probably wouldn’t be able to rank in his best girl’s events. He wouldn’t be able to spend hours sitting at his PC in the dark. Regardless of whether Citron is a gamer or not, Itaru has been keeping a strict _no dating_ rule since high school.

It _probably_ has nothing to do with high school being the start of Itaru’s trust issues. He feels vaguely sick when he thinks of it like that, so he stands and smiles at Citron.

When they get to the lounge, Citron rushes forward and says loudly, “We’re here for snacks!” Itaru follows behind him, catching Banri’s eye and ignoring Banri’s raised eyebrows in favor of watching as Citron grabs a bag of chips, walking back over to Itaru and shoving them into Itaru’s arms.

“Take these as an offering of friendship,” Citron says.

“What?” Itaru’s face breaks into a grin. “You don’t need to give me an offering. I thought we decided we were even. If you _really_ want to gain favor with me, you should play a fighting game with me.”

“Did you not get the SSR?” Banri asks, leaning back in his seat. Taichi, beside him, glances upwards, pencil between his teeth.

“Nope,” Itaru pops the P in the word, settling beside Citron on the couch and putting the chips on his other side, “but I have some gacha money saved up exactly for times like these.” He ignores that by inviting Citron to play a fighting game, he was almost asking Citron on a date. _Almost,_ because Itaru is _not_ dating.

He can feel Citron’s eyes on him.

When Itaru turns towards him, he sees that Citron is holding onto his phone. The download page is pulled up, but Citron still hasn’t pressed the button that will bring the game onto his phone. Itaru pulls out his own, more as a distraction than anything else, though he reasons with himself that getting ahead on event prep and dailies is also a goal.

“What is it?” Itaru nudges Citron with his elbow.

Citron glances back at the others, and when he refocuses on Itaru, he leans a bit closer, like he’s prepared to use Itaru as a pillow. Itaru lets the silence rest, looking towards his phone and smiling. It’s comfortable.

“It’s more comfy in your room,” Citron says.

“Is it?”

“Mhm,” Citron says. His weight leans against Itaru’s shoulder. “You have that sofa! And I do not! The lounge is also quite nice, though!”

“Oh,” Itaru says, humming to himself. Dailies, dailies. Easy. “So that’s why you called us out here, then? For the couches? I guess you’re right…” He wonders what he’d have done if he didn’t have the sofa in his room. Game on the floor? No, thanks.

“Plus, your room is very you, Itaru.”

Itaru looks up. Citron’s face is partially obscured by his hair from this angle, so Itaru can’t see where his eyes are trained, but his thumb hovers above his phone. He’s stalling, or something. Or just lost in thought. Itaru leans further into him and makes sure that his arm won’t poke Citron in the side if he moves.

It’s nice like this. If Itaru was actually dating (and it doesn’t escape him that his crush on Citron makes him think about dating a _lot_ ) then he’d want dates to be something like this. Comfortable.

Itaru’s eyebrows furrow. His game mission ends. He knows that most people don’t think of dates like that. He knows that he’s not exactly what most people would _want,_ being a slovenly gamer like he is. This is as much about others expectations of him as it is about dating in general.

Itaru breathes out, quietly, and makes sure his voice is low enough that the others won’t be able to hear. “Hey…” he starts, and meets Citron’s eyes when he tilts his head to look at him. “You’ve never been on a date before, have you?”

His heart stutters. Half of it is wondering if he’ll be found out, but the other half is wondering if he’s gone too far. If he made an incorrect assumption, that Citron’s gone on dates with, who, nobles? Or maybe, this is a correct assumption, one that Citron doesn’t want him to know. Itaru forces himself to still his fingers over his screen.

“No,” Citron says. “I never had time. But that’s alright,” he grins. “Are you offering to take me on one?” he continues, blinking rapidly as if he’s trying to jokingly charm Itaru. (And it’s working. Somehow.)

This is the highest irony Itaru has ever experienced. _It’s a joke,_ Itaru repeats to himself. _It’s a joke._ Man, Citron really has no idea.

Itaru laughs. It comes out more on the side of awkward as he tries to come up with the perfect response. “Hm… Well, I’m too busy with games to date. But I was thinking that I don’t really know what dating is like. And I’d prefer to not ask just anyone.”

Citron hums. “Spring Troupe doesn’t have much experience.”

“Yeah,” Itaru agrees. “Between all of us, I’d be surprised if any of us has dated anyone seriously. I could ask someone from the other troupes, but… I wanted your thoughts.”

“On dating?”

Itaru shrugs. “Guess I didn’t think this through.” Honestly, does he really have the right idea, asking a prince about dating? Seriously?

“Well… You’d want someone you date to let you game, yes?” Citron says. Itaru can feel himself heating up as he nods. Citron’s eyes drop to Itaru’s screen, not meeting his eyes. “And you’d want to be close with them. And… You’d want to be happy with them. They’d have to make you happy.”

“Yeah,” Itaru breathes, and it almost feels like a confession. “You’re right.”

_You’d make me happy,_ he thinks, _because you get it like nobody else._ It hits him like a brick, that Citron already makes him happy, and he’s already understanding Itaru, sticking by his side no matter what. Itaru is an idiot. No amount of trust issues could cover up the fact that Citron really is Itaru’s ideal boyfriend. (Or is that just the crush talking?)

“If you don’t want to date,” Citron says, moving away from him, “then your love for gaming will never be challenged! That’s a good thing. But if you do wish to, then I’m sure you will be lucky!”

Itaru shakes his head. “Honestly, I’ve barely thought about it,” hasn’t thought seriously about dating since high school, since he was asked out by a girl who only saw his sick boy persona, and thought, _Does anyone really know the real me?_ and then kept that thought strongly into adulthood. What a sad life he’s had.

But… it’s not so bad now. He has Spring Troupe. He has a family, a _home,_ and he’s allowed himself to openly show his real self. He’s happy. He can _allow himself_ to be happy.

...Can’t he? Even if it means taking a stupid chance on a crush who cares about him?

He takes in a breath, turning away from Citron and pulling up the gacha screen again, ready to use his gacha funds. Maybe having an actual relationship with Citron wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe not now, but...

“I need you,” Itaru mouths, mumbling so softly he doubts anyone around him can hear it, not even Citron. Citron looks up from his own screen, and his eyes soften when they meet Itaru’s. If Citron thinks anything, it’s probably that Itaru is yearning for a card, a 1% chance.

“Did you say something?” he asks, and Itaru shakes his head.

“Come on, are you going to keep stalling, or are you going to download my, as you called it, prince game, Prince Citron?” Itaru says lightly.

He needs the card, sure, but he needs his relationship with Citron more. It’s too cheesy to actually say, but he thinks it as Citron presses the download button. The loading screen tumbles through Itaru’s mind, and he wishes he could voice his feelings for Citron as easily as spending money on gacha pulls. Too bad Citron is worth more than any card.

* * *

Itaru wakes up with Citron leaning on his chest, and immediately panics.

It’s all internal, of course, because he doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember Citron coming to his room to play a fighting game. The lights are off, and Itaru’s screen is dark. The windows shine a pale wisp of moonlight over them and nothing more, just enough for Citron to glow.

The real reason he’s panicking is because he doesn’t understand why Citron is sleeping _on him_ (oh my god, Citron is sleeping on him) on his couch. Citron knew he was falling asleep last night, after Itaru had an all nighter the night before, and before that… well, Itaru supposes it doesn’t matter.

He’s so tired right now. He wants to wrap his arms around Citron and fall back asleep.

Itaru then realizes that his stamina in all his games has probably been wasted. Shit.

Trying to untangle himself from Citron seems like a futile task, but he still peers around into the darkness to see if he can see his phone. He’s ranking for an event right now, and more lowkey participating in another for a different game, and Citron’s sleep be damned, he needs to get the ranking card.

When he tries to gently lift Citron off of him, though, Citron stirs, his arm curling around Itaru, and he finds himself holding his breath as Citron’s eyes open.

Citron blinks sleepily a few times before looking up to meet Itaru’s eyes. Itaru’s heartbeats echo in his ears as Citron whispers, rough from sleep, “Itaru.” It’s just his name, but…

“Citron,” Itaru says. Lets it hang between them for a second. “Can you get off me?”

Itaru is cold without Citron’s body heat so close to him, but it’s easier to breathe when Citron rolls to the side and Itaru leans halfway off the couch to reach and grab his phone. A glance at the time—it’s past three, which means Chikage is probably—maybe—home. He pauses to listen for Chikage’s sleeping breaths and his suspicions are confirmed.

Which, of course, means that Chikage saw him and Citron passed out on the couch. Great. he’s sure explaining that will be fun, if they even talk about it at all.

His phone is so bright, and his eyes are so heavy, but he opens his game anyway. By his side, Citron doesn’t say anything, just craning his neck slightly to see Itaru’s screen more clearly. The way they end up still has Citron pressed against Itaru, but Citron isn’t on top of Itaru anymore, which is a plus.

“You should have gone back to your room,” Itaru whispers, “since you let me pass out like that.”

Citron shrugs. “You haven’t been sleeping.” Itaru doesn’t move his eyes from his screen, but somehow he knows that Citron would be looking at him in a way that would make him melt. “I thought it would be better like this!”

“Better like _what?_ ”

“I wanted to stay with you,” Citron says, and if he wasn’t so close to Itaru’s ear he wouldn’t have had a chance of hearing it. Itaru forces himself to continue his mobage mission. “I worry about you, Itaru. You must remember your health!”

Itaru hums. “Sure.” He chances a glance at Citron’s face. It’s awash with light from Itaru’s phone. He doesn’t look beautiful, but to Itaru, it’s almost better seeing him like this. This view itself is unusual, not something Itaru will see outside moments like this. The mission ends, and Itaru forces himself to drag his eyes away from the man beside him.

Itaru’s thoughts turn over in his mind. Since he’s accepted that maybe he can allow himself to want to date Citron, it opens up a new question; if he’s okay with confessing. Even if Citron might feel the same, which he _won’t,_ something in Itaru hurts at the thought of actually saying he has feelings for him out loud. It’s another inner battle to fight.

But man, hasn’t Itaru had enough inner battles in his life? Seriously, can’t he just have a break?

When Itaru’s phone goes dark, he realizes that despite the tiredness that had gripped him when he woke up, his eyelids aren’t drooping at all anymore. He should probably take this time to play a bit in some of his non-mobile games, since he’s already awake and not falling asleep anymore.

Citron, though…

“Are you going to sleep?” Citron asks, and Itaru’s eyes flicker to his voice, even though the sudden change in light has made it too hard to see, even with the moonlight seeping into the room. If Itaru _was_ going to fall asleep now, he’d want Citron to be beside him again, even though that’s selfish.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone right now, he thinks, heart lodging itself in his throat.

“Nah,” Itaru shrugs. “I’m too awake now. Besides, I’d been hoping to get more gaming done before I got KO'd, so I might as well do that now.” He sits up, careful to not put his weight on Citron.

“Itaru,” Citron says warningly.

“Relax,” Itaru replies, waving him off. “I don’t have work tomorrow, so I can sleep during the day. I’ll just be up for an hour or two. You wanna play a bit of KniRoun?”

Citron shifts, and when he speaks again he’s much closer to Itaru again. “Not tonight.”

“Alright,” Itaru says, but his voice is much quieter than he intended, even with how he’s trying to stay quiet for Chikage. He clears his throat and tries again. “Want to join me on a snack run before you go, then?”

All this is, Itaru thinks, is buying time until he can figure out his own feelings. Until his heart settles and he can be happy with what he’s feeling. And while he’s in the inbetween state, waiting for an answer he doesn’t know if he can find without a walkthrough, he wants Citron by his side.

...As a friend, if nothing else.

Citron becomes clearer as Itaru’s eyes adjust once more to the darkness. He’s sitting there, outlined by moonlight. His eyes are looking down, eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought. “Yes,” he says, finally. “Let’s go.”

He wonders, briefly, if it’s because the darkness is covering them that Citron’s voice is so soft.

Itaru smiles languidly as they disentangle themselves from the couch and walk out the door together, Itaru making sure the sound of the door is quiet so as to not wake Chikage—it almost feels as if they’re sneaking out, like some kind of stealth game.

They don’t speak as they go, but Itaru thinks he can feel Citron’s eyes on him. He wonders if the confession that Citron wanted to stay with him when he fell asleep is the same as Itaru asking Citron to come with him for this.

When they get to the kitchen, Itaru immediately goes for a soda, holding the door open. He can get other snacks that Azami would probably yell at him for eating later, but after waking up he just needs some sweet sugary liquid to keep him alive for the next couple hours, because even if he isn’t sleepy now, he doesn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of a quest.

Though, honestly, he should choose a soda without caffeine.

While he gets it, Citron stands to the side, and Itaru makes sure to appreciate his presence. That’s what he’s here for, after all. Even without words, the two of them are connected by late night visits to each other’s rooms, or by Citron’s quiet watching him. And in the cool of the refrigerator, moving curry containers aside, Itaru realizes this:

Itaru can’t be attractive, with little sleep, bathed in the unhealthy glow of the refrigerator, but he can see Citron continue to stare at him from the corner of his eye. Citron’s gaze feels warm, a constant reminder that Itaru is _here,_ Itaru exists in this world.

Itaru’s fingers touch the cold can of soda, then stop moving, the cold seeping into his skin. He turns to Citron. “Do you want anything?”

Citron shakes his head. He takes the moment to jump onto the counter, swinging his legs in an endearing way.

Itaru decides, in that moment, that he’s going to stay out here a while longer, games be damned. It’s unusual for him to be like that, and Citron would understand if he simply grabbed the soda and some other snacks and left right away, but for Itaru, at this moment, he wants to soak up the light and happiness that Citron brings with him.

“You wanted me to sleep, right?” Itaru comments. He stays with his hand on the fridge door, and lets his eyes meet Citron’s. “Are you disappointed that I asked you to play with me?”

“No, of course not,” Citron says. “I just… remember that you sometimes don’t take care of yourself. Like during Romeo and Julius.” _The injured foot._

It almost startles Itaru, that Citron remembers this about him. Citron watches over them often, and Itaru isn’t quite the same. He’d expected Citron to forget, just like Itaru would’ve. “Well, it worked out last time,” Itaru says, breathing out a sigh as he closes the fridge. “Besides, that was one time. And it was because I had so much fun acting, anyway.”

“That’s true!” Citron is suddenly cheerful again, like the reminder of acting is all he’d ever need.

Itaru pauses. “Was it like that for you, too? I know you just joined because of,” he fumbles for the right words, “your own reasons, but you stayed because it was fun, right?” Citron nods, and Itaru feels like he can move again. “And you get to have a fun time in Japan, too.”

“With Spring Troupe, there’s never a boring day!” Citron exclaims. Itaru can feel the corners of his mouth being pulled up as well. “And my Japanese is always improving.” His voice lilts downwards here, even as he keeps smiling.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere of the dark kitchen, but Itaru finds himself waiting for Citron to say more. “It is,” Itaru pushes him on. Citron’s eyes rest on him.

“Thank you for being patient with me, Itaru,” Citron says.

Itaru settles in next to Citron, and feels the wooden countertop pressing into his back. His arm brushes Citron’s thigh, where he’s still sitting. “No need to thank me,” Itaru tries to choose his words carefully, “I don’t mind when you make mistakes. You’re...”

_Fun to be around, important to me, a part of a place I can call home—_

“I’m…?” Citron blinks at him.

“I care about you,” Itaru settles on, smiling weakly. He feels like his stamina has been drained, and he’s all out of boost items. It’ll be better later, when he settles back into his own skin, or at least until he sleeps. To push himself forward, he opens the can, which hisses as Citron responds.

“I care about you too,” Citron replies easily, and Itaru’s heart flips in his chest. Even though he’s not trying, and even though the light in the room is weak, Citron still looks beautiful. And, still, he cares about Itaru. Citron sighs, barely a whisper from his mouth, but Itaru can hear it from their close proximity. “I’m learning so that I can stay here, and be with you for as long as I need.”

“And how long is that?”

“Until all my selfish desires are fulfilled, I think,” Citron says, and looks down at his hands. “I’m not used to this much freedom. But I want to keep being here, as well as helping my country from afar.”

In some ways, Itaru can relate. There’s so much pressure to be a proper adult, but Itaru, in many ways, is nothing like what the world wants from him. Letting himself be childish is important, and it makes him happy, and Mankai accepts that easier than Itaru ever could’ve imagined. He’s not used to this, either.

But otherwise, Itaru has no idea what it’s like. Him being a working adult is nothing like Citron, with the weight of a whole country resting on his shoulders. He doesn’t understand how much Citron’s freedom means to him, and he doubts he ever will.

“Your country means a lot to you, huh?” Itaru smiles, and Citron’s eyes meet his with equal happiness.

“Yes. Yes it does. No matter where I am, I want to stay connected to it.”

“A prince through and through,” Itaru remarks, looking down at the can of soda he’s holding. He feels like Citron is still looking, even if he can’t see anymore. “Amazing.”

“Maybe.” Citron says it quietly. It’s so different from his usual voice that Itaru’s heart softens.

“But I’m glad you don’t have to devote your whole life to Zahra anymore,” Itaru says, harnessing all the mushy feelings he has and trying not to feel embarrassed about it. The darkness feels safe, at least. And Citron feels safer. “It means you can be with us. And, it’s amazing that you can _be_ selfish. But I’m warning you, I don’t think you’ll ever stop having selfish desires. I definitely haven’t.”

“Can I be selfish and be here with you, then?” Citron asks, and Itaru looks up in surprise.

“You’re already here,” Itaru laughs, but his cheeks feel warm. “What more could you want?”

And it’s ridiculous, because Itaru is tired and his limbs feel heavy, and he tastes sugar on his tongue from the soda, and he can’t stop thinking about wanting more as in _romance,_ and wanting more as in _stay with me, stay with us, make sure that we’re on stage together._

There’s a beat of silence. Itaru's heart beats in his ears.

“Let’s go back to your room,” Citron says instead of answering, hopping off the counter.

“What is this?” Itaru scoffs. Humor is as good a defense as any from the nervousness on what that _means._ “We’re already alone here, after all. Do you have a reason for going to our room? Are you trying to steal my games, Citron? Or are you going to try and prank senpai? Shame on you. You won’t survive if you try either one of those.”

That makes Citron pause, and Itaru watches his lips quirk up, Citron's face no longer pulled into a serious mask. Itaru can tell, now, when Citron puts on the princely persona. It reminds him that there are so many layers of Citron, and Itaru, for better or for worse, gets to be with the funny, hilarious version of him. But that makes it difficult to know if Citron will be honest.

Itaru doesn’t know how to breach the serious question of _what did you mean, be with me?_

“I’m not going to steal from you,” Citron smiles, his face just barely turned to Itaru’s direction. “I just want to spend more time with you, all the time.” Itaru watches him as he turns around fully, face bright despite the seriousness of this. “You mean a lot to me!”

Itaru nods. “You too.”

“And…” Citron pauses. When his smile drops, Itaru’s eyes widen. Citron swallows before he speaks again. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

Itaru’s thoughts shut down. “Really?”

“Yes,” Citron nods, reaching for Itaru’s free hand. His fingers are soft, but his grip tightens around Itaru’s. “I haven’t had the chance to be with someone like you. And I want to stay with you, even if it means being selfish. But...”

Itaru swallows. He can feel his pulse thrumming underneath his skin. “But what? There’s nothing to be worried about. You’re not going to be king. You can stay here as long as you need. And I’m not leaving, either; Mankai gave me a place to call home— _you_ gave me a place to call home. And I wouldn’t give that up for the world.”

“Good,” Citron says. It’s hard to tell like this, despite how close they are, but to Itaru, his smile doesn’t seem as wide as it would be usually.

“What did you mean, be with me?” Itaru squeezes Citron’s hand, hoping to leave behind his fear, because if Citron is going to be honest, then Itaru should too. He leaves his soda on the counter, aluminum clinking lightly, and resists the urge to touch Citron’s shoulder comfortingly. They’re already holding hands, after all.

“Hmm… Maybe I wasn’t obvious enough?” Citron makes an exaggerated thinking gesture with his free hand, which makes Itaru smile.

Itaru feels more alive than he did before, just spending time with Citron. Who would’ve guessed that Citron was not only good at pulling princely SSRs, but also being a healing presence all by himself?

“Made what obvious?”

“Well… I was concession,” Citron says.

“...Confessing?” Itaru guesses in awe, and feels his face grow warm as Citron takes his hand to his mouth and kisses it with a smile. He’s so casually affectionate all the time, and Itaru has always known that, but he didn’t realize how much it meant to him until this moment, with Citron happily grinning at him.

“Yes. You never realized, but I was.” Citron smiles against Itaru’s knuckles. God, he really is a prince, huh? This aura is too powerful. Itaru needs a healer, asap, because Citron’s healing energy has been fully converted into flirtation.

“Then it wasn’t really a confession, was it?” Itaru counters.

“True. Then how about this? I like you, Itaru.” Citron moves Itaru’s hand away from his face, but he doesn’t stop holding it. Itaru thinks he might be melting, but he doesn’t let go, either. Citron stares at him while waiting for an answer.

“I like you too,” Itaru laughs airily, and changes the position of their hands to lace his fingers with Citron’s in his giddiness. It feels safe, like nothing else Itaru’s ever experienced. Like the result of knowing that they both hold the same feelings for each other has solidified something between them. “We probably should’ve confessed sooner, huh?”

“Probably!” Citron squeezes his hand and joins in on his laughter. In the room with only them, it sounds like a victory chime.


End file.
